


Pale Tracks of My Tears

by semiiramiis (HikaruAdjani)



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 23:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5025319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HikaruAdjani/pseuds/semiiramiis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the fight is the easy thing, and living through what comes after is the true struggle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Teyrn Fergus Cousland was at a total and complete loss, his gaze locked on his sister, his only surviving family member. He understood her grief, her rage, he'd lost as much or more than she had...but he did not understand her brittleness. Leonie was a Cousland, and they were strong. But perhaps that was it, Leonie was a Cousland through her father, just as Fergus was. And Couslands were strong, stoic. But Leonie had always been more like their mother than he was, and the Mac Eanraigs were a wild and fierce bloodline. He just didn't understand how to handle her, Leonie had come home fickle and mercurial, swinging wildly between rages and crying fits. 

At first, he'd thought she needed time, and he was wrapped up in his own mourning, coming to grips with the loss of almost everything he knew. And he done it without even the thought of vengeance because Leonie had taken that, and taken it to a level he'd would never even consider. She'd killed the man who'd taken their family away from them. She'd killed that man's ally as well, in front of the Landsmeet. She'd even tried to go after the Queen, but that report was muddled and confused. Why would Leonie unlimber a weapon and go after Anora? And if she had, why had she been left alive and free after it? She seemed to be almost untouchable now, she was more of a threat to herself than anyone else was. And now...he sighed, crumpling up the missive and throwing it into the fireplace in front of him, he had something else to deal with. They needed time, they needed space, they did not need royal visitors, especially royal visitors that his sibling had been willing to attack in the very recent past. “Why would Anora want to come to Highever?” He asked aloud and Leonie paused in the corner, her expressions flowing through a range of emotions before they settled on anger. Yes, and that was the last one he wanted to see catch and stay. Where had his sister gone? He desperately needed her. 

“Tell the bitch no and we go on about our business. It's brutally unfair to expect us to host royalty now.” 

Well, she was right about one thing, it was brutally unfair to expect them to host royalty now. All they'd managed to do so far was bury all of the bodies. Most of their staff were dead or fled. 

“We can't do it.” It was a sad, sad day when Highever was unable to play host, but it was the bitter truth. No staff. The castle had been brought low, looted, burned. Surely Anora had to know this? 

“Of course we can't. Nor should we be expected to. The bitch just comes to gloat.” Leonie strode out of the shadow and he sighed. She was so damned thin, her progress haunted by Feef, her mabari hound. “Tell her no, Fergus.” 

“Leonie, it's not that simple.” She should know better. She'd been trained, as he had been, on how to be ruler of Highever. She'd had years of etiquette training, she knew the correct social graces...if he had not been found, she would be Teyrna. She was the daughter of one of the highest noble houses in Ferelden. Until Anora had married the King, she and Leonie had been equals. Leonie could have easily been the one married to Cailan...

“The hell it's not, Fergus. If you won't, then I will write and tell her so. I will not see her. Arrange to meet her elsewhere...plead that we are unable to host her august presence.” Bile dripped from the last two words and Fergus sighed. Leonie was correct, in concept. Why was the Queen so intent on traveling here? But it was obvious that his stubborn younger sibling was going to be of no use to him whatsoever. 

“I love you, Leonie.” He did and she was all he had left. If he could only understand what was going on inside of her, if she'd only open up to him, he could help. But she refused. He recognized rage, he recognized pain. Maker knew he'd experienced all of them and still was... He'd lost his parents. His wife. His only child. He'd fight to keep what little family he had left...Leonie...if she'd only let him. “Lee...”

She turned to him, and he wrapped his arms around her. “I'm so sorry, Fergus. You shouldn't be in the middle of this.” 

In the middle of what? That was the answer he really wanted. He felt like he was trying to repair things with only part of the pieces he needed. What had gone on between Leonie and Anora? Why was this even a situation? “Middle of what, Leonie? I'm going to need to know.” 

She pushed away from him, moving towards the window and staring out over the shattered castle courtyard. “I...I supported another to the throne. I tried to depose Anora.” 

Oh, and it just got very, very deep and finally started to make sense. Leonie was a Cousland who had tried to play the game. She'd never shown an interest in it before, but these were turbulent times. Her support could make a world of difference after the King's death and the end of the Theirin bloodline. 

“And?” He poured a goblet of wine, tossing it down. He'd prefer something stronger but that meant leaving the room. He wouldn't do that since he finally had Leonie talking. 

“The man I supported died at Denerim. It's over. All I want to do now is rebuild, Anora can have her damned throne. I'm done.” 

“I see.” And he did, somewhat. It explained much of Leonie's vile temper, if she'd failed to depose Anora...she would face that every day. It wasn't over. It meant he'd have to do a lot of smoothing over, but he was confident it was possible. As long as the man that Leonie had supported was dead and gone, he could convince Anora that she was no longer a threat. “Don't worry, Lee. I've got this. She won't...”

Leonie laughed outright, shaking her head. “Anora won't come up against me, Fergus. I'm fairly certain she wants to ask for my support now that he's... gone. And you can tell her she won't have it.” 

“I'll pass on the message.” Wonderful. Two teyrns' daughters, locking horns and snorting at each other. Just what Ferelden needed. “And please, Leonie. Eat something.” He left her alone in the hall, climbing the stairs to the room which had been his father's office...and was now his. He was the Teyrn now. 

He sat in the dimming light, composing a letter to the Queen. Surely she could be made to understand that the castle was not appropriate to receive her, and with that, he could keep a distance between her and Leonie. Time would help this all blow over. If Leonie was willing to enter into self imposed exile for awhile, it was all the better.


	2. Chapter 2

“You know how I feel about you. I won't let you die, not if I can do something about it. Sanest thing I've ever done.” Leonie jerked awake, her stomach in knots and her heart pounding. It was the same way she had come awake every day since Denerim. When would it stop? When would she let it stop? 

“I don't want to hear it.” She grumbled, and Feef merely stared back at her, head tilted, ears pricked. There was nothing to say. The mabari had been there for all of it, and she was the only one who truly understood. Fergus thought he wanted to, but he already had so much on his plate to deal with as it was. It would be cruel and unfair for her to add more to it. He'd lost his mother and father, the same as she had. He'd lost his wife, she'd lost her betrothed. But then, he'd lost his son, and was now expected to put this all back together. She wouldn't burden him anymore than she already was. If she could just put a sane front on it and lie low...Anora should just let it go. There was nothing to be gained by pushing it. It would just be more bloodshed, because Leonie would not go down without a fight. She still had allies, people owed her. Alistair had given his life so that she would live, and she fully intended to. She'd work out the why she wanted to later, when the numbness passed and life started up again. Until then, she had to hold things together enough to help Fergus rebuild. The Couslands were still hanging on. Howe had not succeeded in annihilating them all, but they were on the edge. If she didn't keep her mind on that fact, Howe might win posthumously. 

It was cold, a thin rime of frost on the inside of her windows, and she dressed quickly, ignoring how clothes that had fit her well before this hung on her now. But they were all she had, and it was surprising she had any at all. Her room had been tossed, of course... but her wardrobe had always been sparse when compared to Oriana's and much of it had simply been tossed to the side. She had been raised knowing her place, but she'd never been expected to live her station. She had been raised wild, knock knees, scrapes on her elbows, ponies, hounds and bows. She had not been a graceful child, not been a graceful youth and... she grimaced at her reflection in the split mirror...not become a graceful young woman. The youngest Cousland was no gentle flower, but these were harsh times. She had to support Fergus. He was the family's only hope to come through this. 

“I don't think we can have children, Leonie. I've never known a Grey Warden to have a child after the Joining. If they have any, they came before.” 

Well, if the Joining had rendered her sterile, then Fergus was it. It was a terrible thing to ask of a man who had just lost his wife, lost his only child, so she would wait. She loved him, he had always been her champion, her partner in crime, a person she looked up to throughout her life. They would see each other through this. 

He was sitting at the table when she descended the steps and her heart seized. He looked so much like their father... “Eat.” He stated without preamble, but that had been his usual command. “You look worse than I do.” 

“That's debatable.” She retorted, but sat next to him and stared at the food clustered at his end of the table. She was actually hungry, unfortunately their new cook needed some work. Nan...

“I know. I miss her, too.” He prodded at his food warily. “Definitely cannot host the Queen. I think Feef would turn her nose up at this.” 

“That's debatable.” 

“That's because you have always been argumentative.” 

“That's debatable.” She repeated and he laughed outright. It was a wonderful sound, a balm to her battered soul. 

“You are such an ass, Lee, and no...that's not debatable.” 

She picked through the best of the offerings, managing to come up with almost a plateful, ignoring his attempt to stealthily watch her while she did it. He was trying to hide behind ledgers, but she could feel his attention. “How bad is it?” 

He frowned, shrugging. “Not as bad as it could be. For some reason, we've received a caravan from Amaranthine. Much of what Howe looted has been returned, along with coin marked for 'reparations'. I don't suppose you know what that's all about, do you?” 

“Reparations.” It seemed like a fairly obvious concept to her. “They attacked us without provocation. Slaughtered family, staff. Burned our home. They pay for it.” Rendon Howe had met his answer at the head of her war axe, but that had not been enough. She'd drag the whole lot of them down with her...

“Right. Except that the reparations seem to come from the Grey Wardens, not the Howe family. And the Wardens should owe us nothing. Leonie...it's going to be damned hard to be the Teyrn here when you're making deals behind my back...” 

She hated it when he was right. She added dried fruit chunks and cream to the porridge, playing with it until it was edible. “Anora gave Amaranthine to the Wardens by my request. They control it because I gave it to them. You were still very sick then.” Sick enough for her to contemplate returning to the Frostback Mountains...she'd found the Urn once, she could find it again. She wouldn't need help, which was good...because she had precious few to call upon now. Between loss and betrayal, she stood mostly alone. “I figured they'd make better neighbors than the Howes.” 

“Agreed.” He sounded wary, and she didn't blame him. “And you were acting as Teyrna in my absence, I can assume. But that doesn't explain why Anora would do anything you requested after you admittedly attempted to depose her. And kill her.” 

“I was stopped quickly. I didn't get close enough to actually swing at her.” They had both been guilty, but Anora had won. Leonie gained nothing by standing against her now. 

“Right. And she accepts that?” 

She'd better.


	3. Chapter 3

Fergus could not believe his own eyes. Why? Why? Even after his very sane, cautious reply that they were incapable of hosting her at the moment, the Queen stood in the remains of his main hall, her mantle wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her expression was set, unyielding, and his stomach dropped. There must be something more to the very limited story that Leonie had finally given him...

“Your majesty.” He managed. She shouldn't be here. “I sent a message that...” 

She waved him to stop and he did, doing his best to not watch the entrances to the hall...to not watch for Leonie's approach. If...no, when...she came, there would be no stealth involved. He'd have plenty of warning. 

“I received your message, Teyrn Fergus. I regret that I cannot do as you ask, for I need to talk to your sister. I understand her reasons to give Denerim a wide berth, but if she will not come to me, then I must come to her.” 

Damn it all. Just let it go, Anora. “I swear that my sister will not be a problem, your Majesty. Whatever caused her to...” Leonie appeared in the open doorway to the courtyard, the mabari at her heels. She did not seem at all surprised, leaning against the door jamb and folding her arms over her chest. It was exactly as their mother had done when she was very much not amused by something. 

“Anora. What brings you here?” Oh, and she wasn't even going to play at the correct social graces, addressing the Queen herself as an equal, or less. 

“As I just told your brother, Warden, I need to speak to you. If there is someplace where we can have this discussion in private...I will get it done and leave Highever. I do understand the situation and have no urge to impose upon your brother's hospitality. There is just something I need to know from you before I go before the Landsmeet again.”

“You can assure them I have no further designs on the throne.” Leonie came into the light. “There's no other business between us.” 

“This is a discussion we should have in private.” For all of her amazingly lovely face, Anora had the same stubborn steel under her words as Leonie did. The same ungiving expression. It was like looking through a flawed mirror, the two daughters of Ferelden's teyrnirs pushing each other. 

“Seems rather private to me. Say what you mean to say, Anora.” 

The Queen's eyes fell on Fergus and he stood, caught. It was obvious that she wanted him to leave, and it was equally obvious that Leonie did not want him to leave. And she was his sibling, his blood. If Anora brought trouble with her, then it was his duty to stand with Leonie. And that was exactly as he did, moving to stand just behind his sister, silently. 

“If this is truly something you wish to discuss in front of your brother, then we shall, Leonie. I need to talk to you about Alistair.” 

Leonie snorted, shaking her head, moving to take a seat at the table...breaking the staring stalemate that had erupted around her. “Nothing to speak of there, Anora. Alistair is dead.” 

And those words were dead on her lips, the moment after them marked by a very pointed whine from the mabari. Who was Alistair? Why did his death cause Leonie to stumble in her focused rage, and more to the point, cause Feef to mourn his loss aloud? 

“I know. I did not have the opportunity to tell you this earlier, but I am so very sorry for your loss.” Anora sat across from her, and Fergus was lost. This wasn't what he was expecting. He was expecting threats, posturing, not commiserations. Leonie had something wrong. “Alistair seemed like he was a good man. You both deserved more.” 

“None of this matters now.” The edge was coming off of Leonie's voice, she was still distant but not as confrontational. He felt it was safe to sit as well...still uncertain but he didn't feel like he was going to need to break up a fray. And he was getting the answers that Leonie hadn't wanted to give him. There had been a man in her life...come and gone before Fergus had even had the chance to meet him. That explained so much...

“Wrong.” Anora frowned, her eyes falling on Fergus. “He stood in front of the Landsmeet and named you his betrothed.” 

“I am not after the throne, Anora.” Now Leonie sounded genuinely concerned, wary. Why would a betrothal, spoken before the Landsmeet, be part of this? Especially a betrothal to a dead man? She'd found somebody, and lost him. He regarded her sadly, wishing he could gather her up and make it all go away. He knew better, the best he could do was to be there. 

“I'm not accusing you of that at all. But Alistair did stand before the Landsmeet and call you that.”

“Yes. He did. Because we were.” 

Anora nodded slowly, her gaze still on Fergus. “So, Teyrn Fergus. Your sister was legally betrothed to the last Theirin heir, Alistair, before the eyes of the Landsmeet.”

And that was the piece that made it all fit together. Leonie never did anything with half of her weight. She couldn't just fall for a Bann, or an Arl. Or even a commoner. No. This was why this was all still so very sticky. Anora was a Teyrn's daughter who had married a Theirin heir and become Queen. And now, Leonie was a Teyrn's daughter who had been betrothed to the last of the line. If the man had lived...

“I see.” He stated. Leonie was still a threat, if she wanted to be. 

“You were fond of Alistair. I am told you were close... that you knew him as a woman knows a man.” 

Fergus coughed under his breath, shifting in his chair. For all of Leonie's noble blood and esteemed birth, she'd been raised by their mother. If she'd truly been fond of the man, truly considered herself affianced to him, then yes, she would have bedded him. 

“I love Alistair. And yes, I knew him as a woman knows a man...if that's how you wish to word it. We bedded together. Not quite certain why this is important, though. Please enlighten me why you're delving into this?” 

“I need to know if you're with child. If you carry Alistair's babe.” 

Ooooooohhhhhhhhhhh. Anora was childless, her union with the King had been barren... and now Cailan was as dead as Leonie's betrothed. And Leonie's betrothed had been the royal bastard he'd heard rumors of, the last of the line. “Leonie?” He whispered. She'd been unwell, but he'd just thought it was grief. 

“That's impossible. Alistair told me that the chances we could have a child were very slim...if not impossible.” 

Ordinarily, Fergus would be choking down laughter at those words. That was the oldest line in existence to come out of a man's lips when he wanted up some skirts. There was no way that his mother had not warned Leonie against the tried and true 'I had the fever when I was young and now I cannot sire children.' trap. And this had been a man she loved... he would welcome a young niece, a young nephew...another Cousland. Family. They'd suffered so much loss that a child would be a gift, a beam of hope. 

“And I am told the same. But I want to be certain before I make decisions. Have you bled since Denerim?” 

“No. I have not bled since Denerim.” Leonie's brow knitted. “I have not bled since...well before Denerim. But it is still impossible.” She pushed her chair back, striding to the window and staring out of it. Anora remained motionless, watching her, but he would not, could not stay put. He moved to put his arms around her shoulders, resting his forehead on the back of her head. 

“Why is it impossible?” He asked. It seemed that she might welcome the idea... if she'd loved the man, why wouldn't she? 

“Because I am not that lucky, Fergus. Not that lucky.” She was shaking under his fingertips, “And even if I was...why would she need to know?” 

Unfortunately, Fergus knew all too well why. “Leonie.” He mourned and she pushed him away with a brutally well placed elbow. 

“Why?” Anora demanded, “Because I can't think of any more worthy to hold the throne after me than a child of yours and Alistair's. The heroes of Ferelden. The ones who stopped the Blight in its tracks. If I cannot name a worthy heir to the Landsmeet then we will have war when I die. They would accept a child of yours...of Alistair's...if there was one.” 

“There isn't one.” 

“Are you certain? Absolutely, totally certain?” 

“No.” Leonie hissed through her teeth, “I am not absolutely, totally certain. I laid with him, and I have not bled. Is that what you want to hear? I assume you brought a healer with you to be certain, since you bothered to come yourself?” 

Anora gave Fergus a sad look, but nodded slowly. “I brought the only one you'd trust, Leonie. I brought Wynne.”


	4. Chapter 4

Wynne. Leonie stared at the older woman, uncertain. Was this another betrayal? Wynne was one of the few she still had faith in, but now she turned up at Anora's back. Why?

Feef yipped a sudden greeting, wagging her stump of a tail enthusiastically. Well, the mabari still thought Wynne was a good thing, and Leonie trusted the hound's judgment more than she trusted most peoples'. “Wynne.” Leonie breathed, leaning in and wrapping her arms around Wynne's shoulders. She felt frail, yet Anora had brought her here. “You shouldn't have come.” 

Wynne gave a grumpy sound in answer, like a horse snorting. “I am not dead yet, Leonie. We should go someplace private...I see the questions in your eyes.” 

“My rooms are a disaster.” It was the same admission that Leonie had been making her entire life, but now they were worse than usual. This wasn't simply the clutter of a wild youngster unimpressed with the value of her few belongings, now it was a purposeful waste and destruction. An overt violation...

“All of the places we've been together, Leonie, and you back away from taking me to your rooms.” Wynne had gone with her through so many places, the dark, ominous ways in the Deep Roads, the barest of shelters in the wilds, Haven... But this was different. Those places had not been Leonie's. They had not been her ancestral seat, defiled. They had been places of lore and legends, not home. This was an open wound. 

Leonie led the way up, doing her best to ignore the damage as she went. She knew that Wynne saw everything, measured, noted, weighed, but the elderly mage remained silent as they walked. “Here.” Leonie breathed, pushing the door open with a hard shoulder thrust. She really needed to have that seen to...but it was a small detail when the castle was full of larger ones. “Oh, my door hangs wrong now, tighten its hinges please!” Was such a petty demand, their one remaining smith was working hard to try to re-secure the main doorways. “It's a mess.” 

Yes, it was. She saw it mirrored in Wynne's eyes, in the tightening of the mage's jaw. That look was not disappointment in Leonie's often lackluster housekeeping abilities, but anger at the wanton destruction still obvious in the rooms. The bed was gone, Leonie had long since burned its shattered remains as fuel, along with the rest of the furniture. Only the mirror remained, the glass split. Now there was very little difference in how the daughter of a teyrn slept at home and how she had slept in the wilds. Her bed was a roll, her seat two of the surviving kitchen crates cobbled together. “What's this about, Wynne? What is Anora up to and why are you a part of it? Take the window seat, it's the best of what I have to offer...” 

“The Queen brought me in to ask some questions...questions about you and Alistair. I answered those as neutrally as I could, for I do not see those as her business or mine to advise her on.” Wynne straightened the ragged blanket spread over the stones in the window well and sat, leaning against the wall. “Then she asked me if there was any chance you could be with child if you had lain with Alistair. I told her the truth, Leonie. I am bound to.” 

“So you told her no.” If given that truth, why was Anora here? Why was she still pursuing this? Was she this desperate?

“I told her yes.” Wynne's dark eyes locked on her face. 

No. This was the last thing she needed. It had been difficult enough coming out of Denerim with the knowledge she had lost everything, now to have a pale hope offered, only to have that yanked away as well... It was beyond cruel. “Wynne...” 

“Leonie, I told her the truth. There is a chance, which all I said. I heard you say yourself that you have not bled since before Denerim. And you should have, at least once. More like twice...depending on how long before Denerim.” 

“There are plenty of reasons for a woman to stop without quickening.” Leonie's education about such things had been broad, her mother had been careful. “I've had most of them.” 

“True enough. I am not saying that you are with child, Leonie. I'm saying that it is possible, in spite of what you were told. Alistair was cautious, and he told you the truth as he understood it. Those who go through the Joining are almost always sterile afterward. You were. He was. I sensed it when I met the pair of you. And I sensed the moment when it was wiped away from both of you.” She sighed, gazing out of the window. “And then, that night...with the mortal remains of Andraste still on your fingers, the light of Her blessings upon you, you went to the man you loved. Leonie, I will be surprised if you are not carrying his child now.” 

Her knees went weak and she had to sit. “Wynne...I am not that blessed. We went there for Arl Eamonn, not...” Not me. Not Alistair. 

“You went there selflessly to aid another and to fight for Ferelden. You did not ask for your own afflictions to be lessened, I know. And I know what I felt that day, Leonie. What I felt that night. Let me check so that we know for certain.” 

That was for the best. She could just end this rumor here and now, let it go before it sprouted, before she had time to digest Wynne's words. Yes, she had placed her hand within Andraste's Sacred Urn, removed a pinch of the ashes, placed them within a slip of waxed paper and hidden that safely away. But then what? There had been no time to wash her hands, she'd pushed her gauntlet back on, picked up her axe and had headed onward. And that night, she'd gone to Alistair, run that same hand over his body... Loved him. 

She laid back on the bedroll, closing her mind. No, she would not hope. She would accept. And carry on when this was nothing but a moment of terrible optimism. She pulled her breeches low, her tunic high and closed her eyes as Wynne rested her fingers on her belly, below her navel. Wynne was no midwife, she was a mage, an incredibly gifted healer. She would not need to poke or pry, she had been able to carry them all through the impossible without a touch. But now she was shaking, and Leonie opened her eyes, concerned. Shaking...and crying. “No, Wynne, please. It's not worth getting upset over.” Wynne was fragile and dragging her all over Ferelden had been bad enough. She should be safe and warm in a Tower, not dragged from Denerim to Highever in this weather. 

“I do not mourn, Leonie. I celebrate. I cry tears of joy. You are with child, and it happened well before Denerim. It happened that night in the mountains.” 

She had been stupid enough to carry a child into that? And everything she'd done since... “You did what had to be done, Leonie.” Wynne had always had that frightening ability to read right through her. Feef was at the mage's elbow, wiggling enthusiastically, and Leonie wrapped her arms around the mabari's familiar bulk. There at the beginning, there at the end, there for every step of the way. 

“We're going to have a baby, girl. A little one for you to guard over and keep safe.”


	5. Chapter 5

She was in the family chapel, her head bowed and her fingers twined together, a single beam of light painting her fox red hair bright. Fergus had the Cousland dark hair, but Leonie had inherited the Mac Eanraig hair as well as their temperament.

He sat next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and waiting patiently. She'd been crying again, her eyes were puffy but her expression was fixed steel. The mabari was sitting closely, more closely than usual, her paws crossed over Leonie's feet, her gaze guarded and watchful. Was that a good sign? A bad one? His sister's bond with the hound had never been something he completely understood...

"So." Leonie began, her tone conversational. "Are you ready to be an uncle?"

"Absolutely." He hoped his answer was confident enough, but his mind began to race. If Leonie was with child, if she was with that man's child, under these circumstances...she was not secure where she was. Highever was a breached target, her defenses torn asunder. "Leonie, you need to discuss this with Anora. If this is truly the Theirin heir, if this is how she wants to go with this..." If that was how she wanted to go, then she had damned well better be willing to shoulder the responsibility of keeping that Theirin heir, and its mother, safe. They didn't even have the option of claiming the child as a bastard with an uncertain father if there had been a betrothal in front of the Landsmeet.

"She wants my baby." Thankfully, although there was a thin edge of mutiny under her words, Leonie did not sound truly convinced of that statement. He doubted it, if Anora needed Leonie's support, she would not do the one single thing guaranteed to make her rage again.

"Tell me about him, Leonie." Perhaps it was unfair, or too soon, but Fergus mourned the fact that he had never met the man and now, never would. He'd considered what would make her happy before, when she had turned her nose up at a bevy of suitors hoping to wed the only available teyrn's daughter in all of Ferelden. Anora had been betrothed young and early, Leonie had not been...their mother had insisted that she choose her own husband, in spite of the whispers.

"Alistair?" She whispered, and Fergus's heart broke. Yes, she had loved him. She still did. She needed her mother to see her through this. She needed her father, she'd always been his little pup, the child he had spoiled rotten and loved so damned much. Fergus was a pale substitute.

"Yes, Alistair." That did seem to have been the man's name, and the Theirin threw fine looking men. Maric had been one. Cailan, another. Leonie would fall for a strong man, a bold man. Assured, at ease in his own skin.

"Alistair was...well, Alistair." She shrugged, knitting her brow slightly, as if that was the only description she could come up with. "Rather awkward, honestly. A good man with a great heart, but he could be trying." She smoothed the mabari's coat down slowly, biting her bottom lip. "He was a lot like a mabari, I guess I would say. Over exuberant and wiggly if he liked you, tearing out throats if he saw something as a threat." She sighed, rubbing Feef's ears. "He looked a lot like Cailan. Darker hair, worn short...but the resemblance was there."

Wiggly. Leonie had just described her unborn child's father as...wiggly. And awkward. Like a mabari. "I miss him." She continued mournfully and the actual mabari on her feet whined in answer. "No matter what, Alistair could make me laugh. In the darkest of places, at the worst of times...it didn't matter. It was a gift."

"I'm so sorry, Lee. And I'm even more sorry to say what I have to say." He squeezed her shoulders tighter, doing his best to overlook the mabari's sudden attention on him. Tearing out throats...

Leonie stared at him for a long, measuring moment. "And that would be?" Her voice dropped, icy, and the mabari's ears pinned back.

"You need to go to Denerim. Or some other place, safer than here. No." He cut her off when she opened her mouth to interrupt, placing a fingertip on her lip. "Listen to me, Leonie. Is this really the place you want to have his child at, right now? We have no real guards. It's going to take months to secure the castle adequately. It's cold and it's only going to get colder. If Alistair stood before the Landsmeet and called you his betrothed and you turn up swollen with child, the truth will be obvious. If...when… Anora wants to move you, don't fight her. Pride is one thing, Leonie, and Maker knows we both have a good dose of it, but this...this is one thing you'll never have another chance at. Leave with Anora."

"And leave you here alone?"

"For this, yes." Now that he understood what was going on, he'd never have a moment's rest if she remained at Highever.

"Denerim is where..." Her voice trailed off and the mabari whined again.

"Denerim is where you lost him at. I understand that. It's a dark place for you now. But so is here. And here is freezing, with broken gates and shattered walls. And we lost our men so if someone decides to come and follow in Howe's steps, there's little to stop them. I won't let you risk this, Leonie. Go. Speak to the Queen." She had to be reasonable...unfortunately, Leonie was not exactly known for her reason. Or she hadn't been, she'd changed so much. She'd just found out. She'd do the right thing for her baby, for herself, for him and the family.

Go. Speak to the Queen. Leonie sighed, striding through the castle towards the guest hall, the mabari on her heels. Fergus was right, of course. He was always right, solid, careful. He'd been a good husband, a good father... And that chain of thoughts was not going to get her anywhere she wanted to be. She needed to be in control of herself when she met with Anora.

I'm with child.

It seemed so impossible, but to doubt it meant she doubted Wynne. And that was something she'd never do. I touched Andraste's Ashes. With my own fingers. She glanced at her sword hand. It looked perfectly normal to her, fingers blushed from the chill, the edges of weapon calluses raised and rough. That night, in the mountains... Well, if it was to have been any night, that was the one she would choose. It had not been their first encounter, they'd worked out most of the awkwardness of it by then. She'd had no doubts that she loved him, and that he loved her. It had been an amazing, wonderful night.

And now he's gone.

She stumbled and the mabari pushed up against her, supporting her with her massive bulk. She had to sit, trembling on the cold floor while Feef pushed her way into her lap. "What would I do without you?" Leonie muttered, and the mabari simply stared back out of wise amber eyes. "I don't know if I can do this."

It was foolishness, of course. She had to do it, now more than ever. Yesterday, it had been live because Fergus needed her, because Alistair had given his life so that she would. Now, the stakes had been upped three fold. "Let's go get this done with, girl."

Anora had been placed in the best of their guest rooms, and Leonie nodded to the guardsmen in the hallway outside. The Queen seemed to be quite aware of their duress, she'd brought her own guards at least. "Your ladyship." The nearest guard greeted, opening the door before her. No, Anora had brought an entire camp bedroom... slotted bed, roll, travel trunk, chairs.

"Ah, Leonie. Please, sit." Anora pushed the empty chair invitingly closer to Leonie, and Leonie measured the Queen. Of course the woman was beautiful, commanding and turned out the best she could be, given the circumstances. And Leonie looked like something found discarded in the corner of a kennel. I am Leonie Cousland. Daughter of the Teyrn of Highever, Hero of Ferelden. My appearance is unimportant.

She sat, gazing into the fire while Anora stood and delved into the trunk, muttering slightly to herself. "Here it is. A gift, for you." She held out a brightly wrapped box to Leonie, who accepted it warily. "It won't bite, I promise."

Leonie untied the bow and removed the wrapping. A strong scent of perfume... citrus, spices, bark... rose to meet her when she held the wooden box within it. She slid the carved lid open, and eyed its contents uncertainly. "Are you trying to tell me I stink, or is soap the newest bribe of the court?" The first part was all too possible...

Anora laughed outright. "No. It's a gift. Only a gift. It is not easy to buy one for someone I know very little about. Now, I do have bribes in mind, but not ones nearly so...small." The unasked question hung in the air, the Queen's gaze was penetrating. "Wynne holds your secrets closely."

"She does." Leonie touched one of the soaps, reveling in the clean smell. These were all of the way from Antiva, the sort of things her father gifted her mother with on special occasions. "It is my place to tell you that I am with child, not hers."

Anora closed her eyes, her hands clenched in her lap. "Thank the Maker." She breathed. "That is wonderful news, Leonie. Truly."

"Yes, it is. I won't let you take it."

"I don't want to take it, Leonie. It is your child and will always be your child. But right now, there is no heir. And even if I was to remarry, there would be no heir of the Theirin bloodline. This will end in civil war. You and I split the Landsmeet when you supported Alistair against me. Redcliffe is still willing to support you. Right now, both you and I are very, very close in our claims."

"I do not want the throne. I supported Alistair to it after you supported your father." That had been an untenable situation, one that had to be stopped by any means. And Leonie had stopped it...with an axe. Now she sat in a room and discussed it all so very civilly, a box of Antivan soaps in her lap, with the daughter of the man she had killed. Politics was a strange game indeed. "But your father is not an issue anymore."

Anora's jaw tightened, but Leonie had no urge to go gently into this. If they were having this discussion, then they'd have it. "You were much loved by your father as well, I know. Teyrn Bryce doted on you. If he had asked for your aid, asked you to trust him, wouldn't you?"

"Probably." No, that was undoubtedly. If Leonie's father would have asked, she would have done anything for him. She'd trusted him implicitly and he'd been worthy of that trust to the bitter end. He'd made the last stand with her mother to buy her time to escape this place.

"Why did they not see you wed? I mean, it comes as a blessing now that you were able to become a Warden, to face the Blight, and to be with Alistair, but I've never understood why Eleanor did not do a better job of..."

Leonie snorted. Loghain had betrothed his daughter off early and well, to his best friend's son...the Crown Prince, removing that option from the table well before the very idea of the other teyrn's daughter's marriage came together. "My mother told me that I deserved what she had...a love worthy of song." And for a fleeting moment, Leonie had experienced just that. But not every song was as joyous and raucous as her parents' song still was, a chanty sung across the decks of the Storm Coast fleets to this day. Some of them were fragile; beautiful and wistful things suited to quiet rooms and still nights.

"I see." Anora sighed, and if she wasn't honestly saddened by Leonie's words, she was an amazing actress because she seemed truthful enough. But Leonie had been fooled before and had lived to regret it. "Here's my offer. I want you to leave here, return to Denerim. This place is not..."

"Secure enough. My brother has already gone here."

"Of course. I will grant you Howe's townhouse. And I will extend forgiveness of Highever's tax debts, for this year and two more years, so that your brother can rebuild without that burden."

That could make all of the difference for Fergus, for the castle... "If I do what in repayment?" Nothing came for free, especially nothing that generous.

"I need your support. There are quite a few in the Landsmeet who were very receptive when you started to push Alistair. Those who hold my father's crimes against me."

"You supported him."

"So I did. So I did. I trusted him, and I shouldn't have. But right now, I am the Queen and you've dropped your push for the throne. You need to make that clear...if it's so. What I want, Leonie... is for you to support me if you do not want the throne. Wipe out those doubts that your faction still has. Work with me to put things back together before our neighbors decide to take advantage of our weaknesses. You raise your child...as the heir to my throne, acknowledged by me. That will head off the disaster that's coming. Together, you and I can bring Ferelden through this. But if I have a teyrnir out of place, we're in trouble."

And together, the two of them held control over both of Ferelden's teynirs and the throne, an almost unassailable position. The only reason why Fergus would turn on the throne would be to support Leonie. I meant for Alistair to be King, and if we were blessed with children, for them to be his heirs. The last part is still valid. It would put a Cousland scion on the throne... not a Mac Tir's. It would head off the problems that Anora's barren marriage to the King brought. It was what was best for Ferelden.

"I will do this as long as I can do it openly." If she was going to work with Anora, then she was going to do it where all could see it. No more deals behind closed doors, she had nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to hide.

"Which is exactly what I want. You and me, guiding Ferelden through this. You became a part of this, see it through to the end."


	6. Chapter 6

Now that he understood the situation, Fergus could finally make suitable arrangements. He'd be damned if his sister, carrying the heir to the throne, would arrive in Denerim attached to Anora's skirt tails, in the condition she'd fallen to. No. And while Highever was in straitened circumstances, through no fault of their own, Leonie was a MacEanraig as much as she was a Cousland. She'd been raised close with their clutch of red headed cousins, running as wild over the decks of the fleet as they had. He'd been the heir, a Cousland through and through, held at a slight distance. She'd just been another cousin to them, one who came equipped with a young mabari puppy and a willingness to get into trouble. She'd fit right in. 

It was much less a blow to his pride to write the letter to his cousin, to explain the situation, somewhat, and to request help getting Leonie to Denerim in a fashion befitting her station. 

He heard her coming the same way he always had, the click of the mabari's claws against the flagstones. She announced her arrival by sitting in the chair across from him with a gusty sigh and he finally raised his eyes in acknowledgment. “Please tell me you've eaten.” He could ignore her nihilism until now, but that all changed. 

“I have, yes.” She sat across the chair, using the armrest as the back, her knees tossed over the other armrest, the side of her head against the back. “Ask Feef.” 

“She'll lie for you.” Well, in many situations. This one, however, he was more likely to believe the hound. The mabari stared wisely back at him, ears pricked and her stump of tail wagging slightly. 

“Not on this, she won't. I've eaten. What are we doing now? Anora has gone...” 

“I'm writing Seamus. It only makes sense you'll go to Denerim by ship, safer that way.” There were few ways safer to make that voyage than by a raider captained by a MacEanraig. She was family, she'd get the family treatment. She'd spent her stripling years halving her time between Highever and the high seas, their link to their mother's family. He'd been too busy here to do more than a single voyage...

“True enough.” 

“Lee...” She sounded so small, so resigned to her fate. Was Denerim so much worse than here? Both places were filled with destruction and loss, but one was home and one was not. He'd answered his own question before he'd even asked it. 

“I made decisions in haste, Fergus. I realize now that I never thought I'd lived long enough to have to deal with the consequences. And I had so many decisions foisted upon me. I did not truly ask to be a warden, if I even am one.” 

“You'll always be my sister. You'll always be a Cousland. And now, you'll always be a mother. Those are the things you need to hold on to now that things are dark and uncertain.” He only wished he had more than words to comfort her. They both had concrete reasons to keep going, they both just had to hold on to those reasons, painful as it was. “After we're done restoring Highever, you can bring the child home. Raise it like you were raised, half here...half there. It's not as if Anora will be a mother in this, she doesn't strike me as the maternal sort.” 

“And I do?” 

“Absolutely. You've a nurturing heart.” Leonie had spent her younger years covered in puppy slobber while she devoted her time to being the best mabari partner she could be. She'd been an enthusiastic young auntie to Oren, often overly enthusiastic. He had few doubts she was cut of a mother's cloth. “You remind me of Mother.” A vicious, pragmatic, yet protective and loving woman. “You weren't raised to be a flower, Lee. And no flower should raise the heir of Ferelden.” He just wished he could be there, in the absence of the child's father, of their father, it should be his place to help Leonie raise this child. But he couldn't, not yet. His duty put him here, in Highever. Hers put her in Denerim. “Will the Grey Wardens interfere?” He honestly had no clue, he'd never considered that a family member of his, the young teyrna of Highever, would be conscripted and put through the Joining. He was less than surprised that she'd survived it, but conscription was for criminals and ne'er do wells...not Fereldan nobility. Not for his sister. 

“I've no idea. What I know about them would fit in a thimble with room to spare.” She seemed less than bothered by that lack of insight, resting her stockinged feet against the mabari's warm bulk. “I was conscripted. I went through the Joining. I went to Ostagar. It was a slaughter and I was one of two surviving wardens...the other being Alistair, who hadn't been one for long either. And now, I'm with child...something wardens don't do.” 

“You've never been one to follow the rules, Leonie.” 

“And I don't intend on starting now. I'm sorry, Fergus. I really am.”

The writing on the vellum in front of him wavered, and he blinked away the tears before they even got started. No. Not here, not now. He had to be strong. “Nothing for you to be sorry about, Leonie. You did what you thought needed doing. When you thought it needed to be done. At least you did something.” She'd stood, here. She'd stood at Denerim. She hadn't run. And if she did nothing more with her life than she'd apparently already done, then it would be more than enough. 

She glanced around his office, but it was nothing he was going to apologize for. This was where he was spending the majority of his time, and it was going to be as comfortable as he could make it. “So is Anora hosting you at Denerim?” If the answer was yes, that could be a problem. While they didn't maintain a townhouse in the capital, the MacEanraig fleet maintained a compound near the docks...

“No. She's given me Howe's estate and forgiven Highever's taxes for the next three years.” 

Either one of them would be payment enough, both were overkill. Whatever Leonie had done had made Anora very cautiously respectful. For this, Leonie must have pulled in some heavy support in the Landsmeet, support that was still hanging on even after the death of her betrothed. “Who backs you still?” 

“Redcliffe.” 

An interesting player, not exactly who Fergus would have guessed willing to throw in to support Maric's bastard son to the throne, since they were closely related to Maric's wife. He must be missing more of those pieces, but if Leonie was certain, then it was probably so. And that was some very, very heavy sway indeed... Highever, Redcliffe, and the Storm Coast. If she had the mind to, she could still make a run on the throne. But she didn't have the mind to, he could see that in her eyes. It was best to just take the very generous settlement they'd been offered and let Anora keep the throne. Best for Leonie, best for him, best for the unborn, best for Highever, and best for Ferelden. “This is for the best.” 

“I know.” And she couldn't sound less convinced if she tried.


End file.
